The Substitute
by convenientdistraction
Summary: The Admiral encounters a new challenge on New Caprica.
1. Part 1

There were any number of scenarios that could be conjured by the mind when the Admiral received the message flagged as confidential from New Caprica. Scenarios that dipped into the regions of his brain responsible for generating his only solace and only entertainment for the last month the _Galactica_ had spent bobbing above the surface of this godsforsaken planet.

_Need a distraction? 0900 tomorrow. Dress nice and bring your A-game. ~ LR_

His eyes skimmed the handwritten message for the thousandth time, struggling to decrypt its meaning until he sighed, folded the wrinkled paper between his fingers and tucked it into his pocket. Echoing the salute of the crewman, he climbed into the raptor, flopped into the passenger seat, and spent the next half hour twisting his collar pins between his fingers to keep them from inching back towards the mysterious note.

The numbers 0900 served as a giant X striking out most of the distractions he had hoped the former president was requesting, but it was also entirely possible that she was using enough discretion not to foolishly request a visit in the evening. By the time the ship eased onto the ground, sinking into the muddy New Caprican terrain, he realized that he had spent so much energy disputing his expectations that he had scarcely considered how he might react if he turned out to be right for once.

Godsdammit. Too late for that now.

As the hatch lifted, he stood and squinted towards the figure hurrying towards them, dark hair bouncing as she waved. The admiral's lips curved downwards.

"Good morning, Admiral. Thanks for coming on such short notice."

"Thank you, Ms. Foster." He watched his boots squished into the ground as his lowered his head to conceal his obvious disappointment. "It's not a chore to put my feet on solid ground, but I would feel a little more at ease if I knew why I was here."

Tory blinked at his statement, clearly biting back a laugh. "You mean you don't know why the Pres. . .Ms. Roslin requested you?"

"Should I?"

His escort quickly glanced behind her back, eyeing the few people who had been drawn from their morning routines to gawk at the raptor. "Let's not talk here. I'd hardly think Baltar would approve of this sort of. . .engagement, without his consent."

Following Tory away from the ship, the Admiral felt his cheeks burn at the word "engagement" and swallowed nervously before he could choke out, "I imagine he wouldn't."

"Hey, don't be nervous, Admiral!" Tory smiled as she gestured their route through the row of tents. "For a pro like you, I can't imagine this is your first time."

Before he could rebuke the young woman for addressing an oficer so imprudently, Adama realized that they had stopped in front of the bulky tent designated as the settlement's school some months before.

"Go on in sir," she smiled as she pulled open the flap. "They're waiting for you."

With an even breath, he wiped the look of confusion off his face, twisted his collar pins upright, and stepped inside.


	2. Part 2

He was surprised to find that not a single head swiveled in his direction as he stepped inside. Every small nose was bent over paper, the soft scratching of pencils punctuating the silence. He smiled as his eyes drifted towards the front of the classroom, landing on their intended target.

Oblivious of his presence, she sat at her desk flipping through the pages of a bulky textbook, hair draped across her shoulders as she slouched forward, focusing on the text. He watched, entranced as she paused to remove her glasses and run a finger down the bridge of her nose, an endearing habit he knew she exhibited whenever she found something or someone particularly interesting.

He figured there was no harm in staring for a few more minutes, and he savored the silence until he saw her glance at her watch before lifting her eyes over her students. When they locked with his own, her face broke into a wide grin and she stood up from her desk.

"Pencils down," she ordered, and he watched as twenty writing instruments instantly dropped against the crudely fashioned tables in a cascade of taps. "Pass your tests to the front."

"No bonus question?" quipped one small girl in the back.

"Nope. Pass 'em up," she shook her head, ignoring the smattering of groans across the classroom. "We have something much more exciting than that."

"Field trip!" a student in the back shouted out.

"Even better," she smiled, setting the stack of papers on her desk before gesturing towards him. The small heads swiveled around in their seats.

"Admiral, why don't you come up front," she encouraged before offering a quick wink that only he could see.

He followed her orders, feeling twenty pairs of eyes on him as he moved to join her at the front of the classroom. None of these kids could be older than eight or nine, and a tiny few seemed to barely reach the tables. He briefly recalled Laura mentioning something to him about the older ones having alternate days. It had been six weeks since the ground breaking ceremony, and this certainly was not the reunion he had imagined.

Somehow being able to sense his apprehension, she rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder before turning back to her students.

"Okay guys, I asked someone very, very special to come to talk to you today. Does anyone know who this is?"

Dead silence. After too many uncomfortable seconds, a very small girl seated in the front poked her hand up timidly, waiting for her teacher to nod recognition.

"President Baltar?" she squeaked.

The older students erupted into laughter. He rolled his eyes, waiting to see if anyone else would guess. In all the months, they had spent jumping across the galaxy, civilian celebrity recognition had never been on his list of priorities. Laura gave his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze as she nodded at another raised hand.

"I know who he is," the boy quipped. "He's the guy in charge of the fleet. Commander Omama."

"Adama!" another boy piped up, correcting him.

"Right, Steven, this is _Admiral_ Adama. He is in charge of the Colonial Fleet, and he is reason we're all here today." He bit his tongue to keep from correcting her flattery, the obvious omission of her own role in the survival of the human race, but he lost the urge when he looked at the students' skeptical faces as they misinterpreted the word "here." Clearly they were not all enthused to have ended up on New Caprica. And gods, who could blame them? He wondered how many of them went home every afternoon to hear their parents potentially blame the great Admiral Omama for their fate. He swallowed nervously.

"I thought that since so many of you have expressed a desire to one day join the fleet," she continued, "that Admiral Adama could answer some of your questions about his job and some of the other positions in the military."

"Hey Admiral, you need any viper pilots? I got great aim!" shouted one boy in the back, grinning as his classmates laughed in response.

He smiled back, imagining the CAG addressing a room full of six-year-old nuggets in flight suits. "I'll see what I can do," he joked.

"All right, let's be serious," warned Laura as the room fell back into a hush under her stern glance. "Does anyone have any questions for the Admiral? Yes, go ahead Sarah."

"Where do you live?" asked the blonde girl with a very serious face.

He breathed in relief. That was easy enough. "I live in my quarters on the _Galactica_."

"You don't have to live _here?_" she balked, incredulously.

"No, the Fleet has to protect New Caprica, so we stay in space," he explained, trying to use words a six-year-old would understand while simultaneously omitting any use of the word _cylon_.

"Can I stay in space if I want to?" she asked genuinely.

"Oh you don't want to do that," he answered quickly, leaning back against Laura's desk. "Not much to do, and you can't run around and play, and you'd never get to see Ms. Roslin."

Sarah nodded, her eyebrows narrowing skeptically.

"Anybody else?" Laura asked, clearly ready to move to a new subject. "Yes, go ahead, Brian."

"Do you like it here?"

Gods, they _really_ wanted to talk about New Caprica. He hadn't realized morale was so low.

"I do," he lied. "It's nice to put my feet on the ground and breathe fresh air."

"Where will you stay when you visit?" Brian pressed, leaning forward on his elbows.

_Frak. _He chose his response carefully, feeling Laura's eyes on him. "We have special military quarters for that," he lied again. "Ugh, next question?" He pointed quickly to a tiny dark-headed girl wagging her hand impatiently in the air as she bobbed at her table. "Yes?"

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

He turned to Laura, not knowing the answer to that particular question.

"Yes, Rachel, I'll take you," Laura sighed, rolling her eyes at him in playful defeat. "Can you handle them for a minute?" she asked, soft enough that only he could hear.

"Of course," he replied strongly, attempting to reassure himself more than her. He watched as she escorted the little girl out of the tent.

He took a deep breath. "Next question? Okay, you sir."

"Why do you have a mustache?"

The class giggled.

"Because I felt like it," he snapped, possibly a little too harshly. "Next," he gestured towards another raised hand.

"Do you have any kids?"

"Yes, I have one son, who is grown. Next?" he pointed again.

"Are you married?"

He frowned, realizing that the interest in military careers wasn't perhaps as strong as Laura had interpreted. "No," he smiled and shook his head, deciding to run with it. "Are _you _married?"

The class laughed as the girl turned a slight shade of pink. "Noooo!" she sang back at him.

"See, lots of people aren't married," he joked, feeling more at ease as he leaned back a little more on the desk. Being a teacher wasn't so hard.

"That's right, Ms. Roslin isn't married either," Brian added, clearly thinking out loud more than addressing the Admiral as he doodled mindlessly on a sheet paper.

"Oh my gods, are _you _gonna marry her?" squealed another girl as her eyes grew wide in recognition. "Is that how you know her?" Before he could even blink, the class erupted into a million smaller conversations, debating the girl's pronouncement. His hands death gripped the sides of the desk as his mouth flopped open, struggling to regain control of the situation. Nothing came out.

"All right that's enough!" a voice split through the noise, snuffing out the chatter as quickly as it had sparked. The Admiral's eyes darted towards the back of the class, his heart pounding as he considered just how much of the conversation Laura had just heard.


End file.
